R AGGETY 


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Mary Josephine white 



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Raggety 



R AGGETY 


R AGGETY 


HIS LIFE AND 
ADVENTURES 


BY 

MARY JOSEPHINE WHITE 

/» 


WITH DRAWING BY 

CLIFFORD K. BERRYMAN 



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PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR BY 

H. L. & J. B. McQueen, Inc. 
Washington, D. C. 

1913 


Copyright, 1913 , by Mary Josephine White 



Number 


OF THIS edition THREE HUNDRED AND 
FIFTEEN COPIES HAVE BEEN PRINTED FROM 
CASLON TYPE AND THE TYPE DISTRIBUTED 



©CI.A3466G8 


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To 

The Lovely Lady 
and 

The Lovely Lady^s Husband 




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CONTENTS 


The Arrival of Raggely 

Raggety Chooses 

Rsggety’s Education 

His Love of Travel 

How Raggety Proved Himself a Real Dog 

How He “ Borned His Baby’’ 

How Raggety Met His Lovely Lady . . . 
His Devotion to His Lovely Lady . . . . 
How Raggety Bit The Great Man and How 

He Then Apologized 

Raggety’ s Ears 

Raggety’ s Tail 

His Athletic Interests 

Raggety ’s Love Affairs 

Raggety’ s Friendships 

Raggety and The Dear Man Who Passed . 

Me and Jeems 

What The Lovely Lady Says 

Raggety Trots Out of His Book .... 



RAGGETY IS A REAL DOG 


To begin with, he is a really truly dog; 
not a dog in a picture, not a dog in a 
story, not a dog in a book, but a real 
dog. One that would come up and 
lick your hand with his warm little 
tongue if you spoke to him, and would 
jump up and down and wiggle all over 
if you asked him to go for a walk. 


THE MINTIE 


Once I was walking in the 
Fields of the Earth* and there I 
met a Mintie, with a head on 
before and a tail on behind, and 
inside the Mintie there lived a 
Growl. Now the Growl had 
neither head, body, nor legs, but 
it lived inside of the Mintie. 

• Apologies to John Bunyan. 


A SUGARED DESCRIPTION 

He ’s all made of lollipops 
stuck together with treacle, and 
then there was a high wind blow- 
ing and lots of sugar in the air. 
And the sugar stuck all over him 
and that ’s the reason he ’ s fluffy. 


Raggety 



His Mark 


t 


The Arrival of Raggety 

He trotted into my life one sunshiny day 
in May over there in a town on the 
Hudson. He was trying to teach a 
hound puppy with very large dull paws 
how to play. The puppy was clumsy, 
he was slow, he panted abominably, but 
the little yellow dog went round and 
round him in flashing circles, the circles 
growing smaller and faster. The center 
of them all came and the fluff turned like 
down before the wind and flew away to 
rest. I laughed out loud with joy at the 
fun of that little yellow dog. As he 
rested he thrust his hind legs out on 
either side, in a way peculiar to terriers, 
and from my window looked an ani- 
mated doormat. “How slow and stupid 
that hound puppy is! ” said every hair 
of the gay little yellow body. 

[ 13 ] 


RAGGETY 


Next morning I was sitting on the door- 
step watching the robins busy among the 
rain of apple blossoms. I know I felt 
expectant : there was that delicious Spring 
hush of an awakening world, and one’s 
heart waited too. 

Round the hedge that same little yellow 
dog trotted into my life. I called to him, 
‘"Raggety, Raggety, how do you do?” 
And he came straight to me, looked at 
me with sad questioning beautiful brown 
eyes, my eyes answered, and we knew 
each other. From that moment I be- 
longed to him and he to me. He let 
me carry him to my room, — he was such 
a tiny thing, so little, so independent, 
— protesting with faint growls. I saw 
his neglected hair was matted, tangled, 
muddy, and that his nose was sore; his 
eyes alone preserved the beauty to which 
he had been born. Then I let him go 
but found from the gardener where he 
belonged. Where he came from no one 
[ 14 ] 


RAGGETY 


knows but he himself and he has never 
told me a word about it. 

This is all I could find out. Down in 
the poor little settlement under the hill, 
which we called '‘The Cabbage Patch” 
in memory of Mrs. Wiggs, there lived 
The Junkman with his wife, many child- 
ren big and little, and an old white horse. 
Every Monday the man hitched the 
white horse to his peddler’s cart and 
drove back among the hills and the tiny 
villages and scattered farms. The cart 
was always filled on Mondays with new 
bright jingling tins, pots, pails, pans, 
with here and there a japanned tea-caddy 
or a bright blue wash basin for a touch 
of color. When the cart came back to 
town towards the end of the week, — the 
better the trade, the sooner it came, — 
all its glory had departed. No more 
shining pans, but instead great dingy 
bags of rags, the clank of old iron, and 
perhaps on the top of the heap a dilapi- 
[ 15 ] 


RAGGETY 


dated baby-carriage, the cast-off things 
of life. The horse seemed older and 
wearier; the man more bent, more 
broken. Earlier that Spring, on his 
way down from the hills. The Junkman 
noticed a little dog trotting under the 
cart. Where he joined him he did not 
know, at what house he had seen him 
he could not remember, only that the 
little long-haired yellow dog had come 
down from the hill-farms with him, had 
followed the cart, did not leave him when 
he reached home, and had become a 
playmate to his children. Little tousled 
things the children were, tumbling over 
each other in the two rooms that were 
home to them. The little yellow dog 
shared their play, their food, their bed, 
until the day that he came up the hill to 
teach that stupid hound-puppy to run 
races. 

Through the gardener’s helper I made 
a bargain with The Junkman. He was 
[ 16 ] 


RAGGETY 


glad of the little extra money, even though 
the children were sorry to lose their gay 
good-natured playmate, and the little 
yellow dog became mine. 

I shall never forget that first arrival. 
The gardener’s man ( I always feel that 
the larger part of the little bargain money 
went into his pocket) came leading him 
proudly, with a rope heavy enough to 
have dragged a cow to market about that 
active liberty-loving fluffy neck, and re- 
proaches stared from those brown eyes. 

Then began a series of struggles, heart- 
rending for the little dog and for his new 
mistress. He had to be washed, not 
once, but twice and thrice, yea, unto the 
fourthly, to get him clean and sweet and 
habitable and uninhabited. We emerged 
from the bath room, he a glaring, fiercely 
protesting bundle in a bath towel, I with 
flaming cheeks, weary back, and collar 
awry. 

He mourned the loss of his little jolly 
[ 17 ] 


RAGGETY 


tousled playmates, refused to eat, refused 
to be comforted. Then he persisted in 
returning to the Cabbage Patch at every 
opportunity, and this meant fees to the 
gardener’s helper, anxious waiting, and 
laborious cheerfulness when he, sulky 
and unwilling, returned. 


[ 18 ] 


Raggety Chooses 


This went on for four or five days. Then 
one morning I took him on my lap and 
said, “ Raggety dear, I don’t want you to 
stay with me unless you want to. I want 
you for my pleasure, but if it isn’t your 
pleasure too, you must go back to the 
Cabbage Patch. Here you will have love 
and care, plenty to eat, and the baths 
which you hate. There you will have 
the little children to play with, scraps to 
eat, perhaps be cold, and surely will be 
dirty, with little sore eyes and nose. But 
I won’t try to keep you if you want to go, 
you must choose for yourself.” Those 
sad rebellious eyes looked into mine, and 
with aching heart I put him down and 
made no attempt at shutting the doors 
that day and off he went to his little play- 
mates. I did not know whether I should 
[191 


RAGGETY 


see him again. I waited through the day, 
but no Raggety. But quite late there 
came a gentle scratching at one of the 
long windows. You can imagine how 
I hastened to open it and in marched 
Master Raggety with a ridiculous air of 
possession, as much as to say, ‘‘Well, 
here I am, home again.” And the 
curious part of his choice was that it was 
final. He never again went back to the 
Patch, never even offered to go. 

Of course, a very reasonable person, 
who does not understand dog nature, will 
say, “Why, The Junkman’s family drove 
him away, would not let him into the 
house, did not feed him; so after walk- 
ing about for many hours, he decided to 
return to the place where he knew food 
and shelter waited for him.” But that 
does not, to my mind, explain why he 
never again wanted to return to The 
Junkman’s, why he seemed willing to 
leave his little playmates and a life of 
[ 20 ] 


RAGGETY 


unwashed freedom. I believe that he 
really chose me, that he understood my 
talk of the morning, knew my affection, 
and that his own little heart responded. 


L21] 


Raggety*s Education 


Where he had come from no one knew 
but himself. He had all the pretty ways 
of a pet dog when he came, loved to be 
petted, could sit on his haunches and beg, 
give paw, and had the ingratiating ways 
of a loved and loving comrade. What 
sort of a home had he left ? Why did he 
leave it voluntarily to follow the Raggedy 
Man? Was his soul fettered and cramped 
and did he long for Adventure and the 
Open Road and, — dare it? When you 
see what a little dog he is, when you know 
his liberty-loving spirit, when you realize 
that he meets change and vicissitude with 
courage, you feel sure that he comes of 
good stock. Mary Cholmondley said in 
one of her books, “ Good blood is never 
cowardly,’* and Raggety has good blood. 

Three humiliating and exasperating 

[ 22 ] 


RAGGETY 

new bonds he learned to endure with me. 
First, a collar, and a collar with an annoy- 
ing bell which jingled as he walked and 
scampered. How he rolled and pushed 
his head about, and wriggled on his back 
to get rid of that abominable thing about 
his neck! Second, he had to learn to 
walk attached to a leash and that was 
terrible. I carefully fastened the clip of 
the leash into the ring of his collar and 
started, and he refused to use his legs. So 
for a few steps I dragged him on his little 
body but that looked and seemed cruel. 
Then I carried him for a few steps, set him 
down again, again no legs, and the little 
body dragged over the dirt of the road. 
Alas and alack, how long it took before 
he submitted! — was it days, was it weeks? 
I have forgotten, but just as he chose to 
return and stay with me, one fine day he 
decided that he would walk properly at 
the end of a leather strap. Now it has 
come to mean a walk, so he kisses it. 

[ 23 ] 


RAGGETY 


The third thing he had to learn with 
his new mistress and to which he never 
in all the years of our friendship has 
become reconciled is the weekly bath. 
‘‘Any refuge in a storm/ ^ he seeks the 
darkest closets and the deepest corners 
under beds as safe retreats and is only dis- 
lodged by coaxing most persuasive and 
long-continued. How he hates it! 


[ 24 ] 


His Love of Travel 


Whether his instinctive love of adven- 
ture persists, or whether he has the con- 
fidence that where I go he too may go in 
safety, I do not know, but I do know 
that Raggety really loves to travel, to go, 
that the excitement of change rouses and 
amuses him. When bags and trunks are 
brought out he is very depressed for often 
they mean separation, a parting from one 
he loves, and once when a trunk, half- 
packed, was left standing open, in he got 
and curled down to sleep, saying quite 
plainly, ‘‘If this goes, pack me in it and 
take me along.’’ But when the time 
comes for departure and he finds he is to 
go too, his excitement is intense. Caper- 
ing, jumping, barking, he expresses his 
joy and rapture. 

When going for long visits he takes 
[ 25 ] 


RAGGETY 


his bed with him, an open dog-basket 
inherited from older generations of little 
pet dogs. He gets into this of his own 
accord, is lifted into the baggage car, his 
leash is attached to one of the handles 
and there he stays. Unless the kindly bag- 
gage-men find that he can sit up and 
“beg,’’ when he often has the freedom 
of the car. And the men always report 
at the end of the journey, “A very good 
dog, ma’am,” sometimes adding, “and a 
cute one.” His wide friendliness and 
gentle manners win him friends on street 
cars, trains, among any community where 
he lives. His traveling equipment is 
such as belongs to any gentlemanly dog. 
His bed, his mattress, his blanket, — for 
Royalty ever carry Their Own, — his 
comb and brush, his washcloth, his soap, 
his powder (for a chance and vulgar in- 
habiter), his collars, and his harness (now 
grown fat in later years, a collar slips over 
his head and is not safe in traveling). 

[ 26 ] 


RAGGETY 


This harness was also an inheritance from 
a dear little dead girl-dog, of whom you 
will hear again. 


[ 27 ] 


How Raggety Proved Himself a Real Dog 

Most men like big dogs, hunting dogs, 
useful dogs, watch dogs. They don’t 
understand that idea of a little dog, a dog 
small enough to take up in your arms 
and cuddle. A dog that will get up on 
the lounge beside you, lay his tiny head 
in your lap, give a comfortable and com- 
forting sigh, and settle himself for a deli- 
cious nap next to “Missie Nannie” while 
she reads or sews. Men don’t have that 
ache for something little in their arms 
the way we empty-armed women do. So 
they don’t care for and love little dogs. 
And my brother-in-law was one of the 
most men. Even during the courtship 
he ventured, when he ought to have been 
studying to make good impressions, to 
call Raggety “a silly dog,” “a lollypop.” 
I know Raggety resented this as much as 
[ 28 ] 


RAGGET Y 


I did, for he soon showed Brother-in-Law 
that he was no "‘lollypop/’ 

They were tremendously in love, with 
that beautiful abandon and obliviousness 
of surroundings which is characteristic of 
the Divine Passion, and they went to walk 
that lovely summer afternoon by the ponds 
and never even saw that Raggety had gone 
along. He trotted demurely at their 
lagging heels until the pond was reached, 
then with a squeal of joy he chased a 
water-rat, dug deep into its watery hole, 
emerged panting, triumphant, the rat in 
his jaws, gloriously black-mud from nose 
to tail. The oblivious ones were forced 
to witness the triumph and a mild feeling 
of respect crept over Brother-in-Law’ s 
indifference. The oblivious ones were 
also beautifully dressed in fresh and gay- 
colored clothing as becometh lovers. 
Having dispatched the rat, Raggety saw 
their awakened interest and pleasure and 
running gaily to them shook violently, 
[ 29 ] 


RAGGETY 


depositing all the black mud and water 
possible upon that gay clothing, and 
frisked about as much as to say, “Now, 
will you ever call me a silly dog again ? 

Later, after the honeymoon, when earth 
had once more become their abode, Rag- 
gety visited the Brother-in- Law. He at 
once adopted him as a comrade, not that 
Brother-in-Law wanted to be so adopted, 
but that made no difference to Raggety’s 
enthusiasm. He insisted upon walking 
with him, and as there was deep snow 
that winter, my sister said she often would 
see her tall man approaching, followed 
by what looked like a yellow feather. 
Buried between the snow banks, only the 
tip of Raggety’s tail waved into sight. 
Then too he adopted Brother-in-Law’ s 
favorite chair. Pushed out of it at first 
whenever its master wanted it, Raggety 
genially but continuously chose that spe- 
cial chair as his own place of repose and 
never offered to leave it voluntarily. In- 
[ 30 ] 


RAGGETY 


stead he would raise polite beseeching 
eyes, and with a casual wave of his tail, 
question, “You don’t really want this 
chair, do you?” It was all so politely, so 
serenely accomplished that in the end 
Raggety won out and kept the chair. 
Ever since then Brother-in-Law has had 
respect for the “silly dog” and even in- 
quires how he does with a reminiscent 
chuckle. He remembers the episodes of 
the mud-bath and the winner of the dis- 
puted property-rights in special chairs. 


[ 31 ] 


How He ‘ ‘ Bomed His Baby ’ * 


During one winter it was not possible 
for me to keep Raggety with me. I had 
to find him a home in the village near 
enough so that I could go and get him 
for a daily walk. His home was with the 
family of one of the undergardeners, 
where there was already one baby girl 
toddling about and hugging Raggety to 
her heart’s content. He adores children, 
no amount of pulling or patting or hug- 
ging by tiny hands and arms can upset 
his good-nature. If his hair becomes too 
much involved, a faint growl warns tiny 
fingers to be more gentle, but Raggety can 
always be trusted with children. 

So Raggety lived and played with the 
Donahues and then a new baby came. 
Mrs. Margaret faintly told them that 
Raggety was under the bed, so down on 
[ 32 ] 


RAGGETY 


hands and knees got Mr. Donahue and 
the doctor, but no coaxing, no blandish- 
ments would dislodge the faithful little 
yellow dog who had mounted guard over 
his Margaret, who had been so good to 
him and was now in such mortal distress. 
Vicious snapping teeth and savage small 
glaring green eyes were the welcome 
given out-stretched hands which would 
have pulled him forth. There was 
much to be done otherwise, the attempted 
evictment was abandoned, the little dog- 
guardian was forgotten. So through the 
long night he waited without food, with- 
out water, without rest. In the dim light 
of early dawn, Mrs. Margaret lying quiet 
with a tiny baby on her right arm felt the 
gentle touch of a little dog’s paw on her 
shoulder. It was Raggety come to see 
her and the strange little bundle. She 
spoke his name, “Raggety,” he answered 
with a soft whimper of relief, sighed with 
pleasure and stretched himself on Marga- 

[ 33 ] 


RAGGETY 


ret’s other arm, across from the new baby. 
Margaret was his Margaret, the baby was 
his baby. 


[34 1 


How Raggety Met His Lovely Lady 

He met His Lovely Lady long before 
I met her. And perhaps somewhere else 
she’ll tell you herself about their meeting, 
but this is what I know of it. I was going 
away for the summer to study and in a 
place where little dogs are not encour- 
aged, so he had to stay behind, and Nellie 
Jones, who was in my Sunday School 
class and also my god-daughter, brought 
him to the train to say “Good-bye.” He 
was rather excited by the crowds and the 
train so I did not let him come out onto 
the platform but made Nellie stay in the 
waiting-room with him, and there I, with 
a sad heart, said good-bye for a little 
while. He wagged his tail encourag- 
ingly, his eyes fixed on mine waiting for 
that happy permission to go which I could 
not give; Nellie cried and clung about 
[ 35 ] 


RAGGETY 


my neck and I hurried away so that the 
parting, which must be, might be quickly 
accomplished. I turned at the door and 
saw the sad little group, Nellie with her 
scant little skirt and long legs dangling 
from the bench, and sitting next to her, 
with that world-old look of infinite 
patience and of things not understood but 
endured, sat that little yellow comrade 
I was leaving behind. “ Good-bye, 
Raggety. Good-bye, dear faithful little 
friend.’’ 

How many times have I said it through 
the long years, but as many times have I 
said in greeting as I said at our very first 
meeting, ‘‘Raggety, Raggety, how do 
you do?” I dare not think of that time 
when I must say, “Good-bye, Raggety. 
Good-bye, dear faithful little friend,” 
with no hopes of a greeting to follow. 

There the Lovely Lady found them, 
Nellie and Raggety. And two years 
later I told her of my little dog, for did 
[ 36 ] 


RAGGETY 


not the Lovely Lady herself have precious 
tiny Balribbie of gentle memory. I told 
her of Raggety’s living at the Donahue’s, 
and how I missed his warm fluffiness. 
And then I spoke of one of the many 
homes Raggety and I have had together 
and she exclaimed with delight, ‘‘Why, 
I know Raggety!” And she’s going to 
tell you herself how they met. 


[ 37 ] 


His Devotion to His Lovely Laay 

First of all the Lovely Lady loves dogs 
and knows what they think about, and 
what they like to do, and what they want. 
Then she has the most enchanting way 
of talking to you if you are a dog and 
a little flufjfy dog. She has a dance that 
fills you with pleasure, so that you caper 
about her in sheer ecstasy of joy. Best 
of all her possessions, besides her own 
lovely self, is “ Jeems.’' Jeems is a terrier 
too, young, rather rough, but good com- 
pany for a walk, and since Raggety has 
licked him into shape by many instruc- 
tions of what to do and what not to do, 
administered in the shape of growls, Jeems 
is really an all-round good dog. When 
Raggety came to live near to his Lovely 
Lady and Jeems, he found that of a morn- 
ing a breakfast with these friends started 
'[ 38 ] 


RAGGETY 


the day satisfactorily. So off he will start 
with never a thought of ‘‘Home and 
Mother,” when there is the prospect of 
a Vicious breakfast, to be followed by a 
walk in the woods. 

His marked attentions to his Lovely 
Lady are witnessed and encouraged by 
me and by the Lovely Lady’s Husband. 
Neither of us could be even a tiny bit 
jealous of the Lovely Lady and her 
devoted little lover, Raggety. Only 
recently Raggety showed that it is in- 
deed his Lovely Lady and no one else 
whom he follows. One unhappy day she 
packed her trunk and went away for a 
visit, and during all her absence neither 
the gambols of Jeems nor the blandish- 
ments of the Lovely Lady’s Husband had 
any efFect on his faithful little heart. He 
simply would not, could not go to that 
empty house; he stayed away for many 
days. 

And will you tell me how he learned 
[ 39 ] 


RAGGETY 


of the Lovely Lady's return ? He was 
fast asleep in his little bed at home at the 
late hour of her arrival. But bright and 
early the next morning he was at her door 
greeting her with barks of welcome, 
ready to go in and have breakfast with 
her. What or who told him that she was 
back again ? Did some dog friend tell 
him early in the morning that she had 
come ? Did the fragrance of her presence 
come to his keen sagacious nostrils ? 
Did some occult sense, denied us human 
beings, tell him that his loneliness was 
over, and that his little heart again might 
beat with joy ? 


L40] 


How Raggety Bit The Great Man and 
How He Then Apologized 

He had just come to live in the house of 
The Great Man, and as neither Raggety 
nor I were quite sure whether The Great 
Man would allow him to stay or not, it 
behooved us both to be exceedingly 
circumspect. It was therefore most 
unfortunate that The Great Man should 
have chosen to behave so strangely. 
They were playing Bridge that evening. 
The Great Man and the others, and 
Raggety politely put aside the curtains 
with his nose and advanced into the room 
to ask them how the game was going. 
He waited a moment, waving a propitiat- 
ing tail, then advanced further. At this 
critical moment he came under observa- 
tion and The Great Man ordered him 
from the room. 

Now, between you and me, I do not 
[ 41 ] 


RAGGETY 


believe that Raggety had ever been 
ordered from a room. Let us plead in 
extenuation that he did not understand 
the order. At any rate, he did not go. 
So of course the order was more vehe- 
mently repeated. Stunned, astonished, 
surprised, Raggety remained passive. 
Then The Great Man came to him and 
took him by the collar to pull him 
ignominiously from the room. Now 
neither a well-bred dog nor man allows 
fingers to be inserted under his collar 
without protest. Raggety protested. 
He shook off the offending hand and 
taking the nearest finger, vigorously 
pinched it between his teeth. It was his 
way of saying quickly and positively, 
‘ ‘ N one of that, please, — let go. ' ’ Then, 
to end the unpleasant scene, he left the 
room, while the others bound up the 
pinched finger, — no skin was broken, no 
blood flowed, — and soothed the wounded 
feelings of The Great Man. 

[ 42 ] 


RAGGETY 


And I hearing the tale trembled, 
fearing that Raggety’s protest meant 
banishment for him. 

But there is a pleasant sequel to the 
tale. 

A day or two later, while his fate was 
hanging in the balance, Raggety again 
nosed aside the curtains of the rooms of 
The Great Man. The latter tells the rest 
of it this way: “ I had been drowsily read- 
ing the newspapers, probably took a cat- 
nap and woke with a consciousness of 
something breathing in the room. I 
looked about for our big cat but could not 
find him. Then on the floor, beside my 
chair, that little cock-eared dog was sitting 
up, quietly begging.” Mr. Great Man 
opened his eyes to find Raggety sitting up 
on his haunches, waving entreating paws. 
Nor would he get down until The Great 
Man stretched out a forgiving hand, took 
his paw, and there was peace between 
them. As The Great Man says, ‘‘When 
[ 43 ] 


RAGGETY 


one gentleman asks pardon of another 
whom he has hurt, what can the latter 
do but forgive him generously ? ” So The 
Great Man and Raggety have been firm 
friends ever since. 


[44J 


Raggety's Ears 


I ALWAYS wonder what people who do not 
own a dog do for general conversation. 
The very young, the uninteresting and 
uninterested alike, the dangerous, and the 
facetious can always be safely steered onto 
the discussion of dogs or the dog, if there 
happens to be a dog in the room. When 
you have not an idea, and your guest 
hasn’t an idea, when the man is treading 
on delicate ground or is approaching the 
barriers, if you just introduce Raggeries 
into the conversation the day is saved, 
the feelings are preserved, your own su- 
premacy maintained. If politics and the 
market flavor the situation between men, 
dogs and dress savour the conversation 
with women. Take heed, if the woman 
has been driven to the dogs conversation- 
ally, you are losing headway and heart- 

[ 45 ] 


RAGGETY 


way. This is about Raggety's ears. They 
always, sooner or later, come into the 
conversation. 

The fact is Raggety’s ears are very in- 
teresting. Haven’t I told you about them 
before? He has one ear that stands up 
and one ear that flops down and never 
stands up. You can never remember 
whether it is the right ear that stands up 
and the left ear that lies down, or the left 
ear that stands up and the right ear that 
lies down. Which is it? Well, I myself 
after knowing Raggety intimately for 
many years do not feel quite sure ! 

Those ears cause an endless amount of 
surmise and conjecture. A person sits in 
my room enjoying stereotyped conversa- 
tion and invariably says, "‘What do you 
suppose makes one of Raggety’ s ears 
stand up and the other flop over?” Now 
here are the three theories with which 
I invariably entertain my questioner in 
stereotyped form. The first is my own 

[ 46 ] 


RAGGETY 


theory, which is that when Raggety was 
a baby-puppy, his mother or one of his 
baby-brothers bit him through the ear, 
just in play and broke the muscles. But 
when I once advanced this theory to a 
Doctor-friend of Raggety, he scoffed at it. 

‘‘Oh, no,’' said Raggety’ s Doctor- 
friend, “muscles don’t give out in that 
way. It is paralysis. The dog was kicked, 
probably in the head, once upon a time 
and that side is paralyzed and so he can 
not raise his ear.” This sounded profes- 
sional and so thereafter I quoted this 
theory. But when I told this to a dog- 
trainer who observed and of course com- 
mented on the famous mismatched ears, 
again such theory was scorned as unpro- 
fessional. 

“Why,” laughed the dog-trainer, “if 
the dog was kicked, his brain injured and 
paralysis occurred, he would have had all 
that side paralyzed, not just an ear. That 
isn’t it at all ! That dog had a prick-eared 

[ 47 ] 


RAGGETY 


father and a lop-eared mother, — or the 
other way round, — and so he just took one 
ear from each. That’s no paralysis!” 

So you can choose your theory after you 
look at Raggety’s picture. You see I do 
not know which is right — do you ? 


[ 48 ] 


Raggetf s Tail 


Yes, it’s a very sore subject with me, 
though Raggety is entirely indiflFerent. 
His tail is not pretty, indeed, it is rather 
ugly. It’s too long and it isn’t very flufly 
and he carries it arching over his back, 
which makes it look twice as long as it is. 
Some rude boys once even pretended that 
they thought his name was Rag-tail, in- 
stead of Raggety! Yes, decidedly his 
tail is his weakest spot, a sort of Achilles’s 
heel. I never talk much about tails 
before him, for as I say his tail is a very 
sensitive subject. 

Nevertheless, Raggety’ s tail is beauti- 
fully responsive to suggestion! It is an 
emotional tail, reflecting the wearer’s 
innermost feelings. Indeed it seems as 
though sometimes it would wag itself off. 
And some of his girl friends say that it is 

[ 49 ] 


RAGGETY 


a ‘‘pinned-on tail’’ and does not belong 
to him, it is so ready and waggy when- 
ever it has the least encouragement. But 
his tail is not beautiful, and were it not 
that this is a true story of a truly dog, I 
should not even mention Raggety’s tail. 


He’s a molasses dog, with butter-scotch 
ears, chocolate-cream eyes, licorice nose, 
pink peppermint tongue, and teeth like 
the little candies that come in Christmas 
tree cornucopias. ‘‘But,” said one of 
the little girls, “isn’t his tail butter-scotch 
too?” “Oh, no,” I hurried to reply, 
“it’s molasses, only it’s darker because 
it is not pulled as much, for we never pull 
tails r 


[ 50 ] 


His Athletic Interests 


Raggety is not built for an athlete. His 
general proportions are those of a very 
fat sausage mounted on four tooth-picks, 
“with a head on before and a tail on 
behind” (see rhapsody entitled “The 
Mintie”). Nevertheless like many a 
man of athletic instinct and corporate 
incapacity, he considers himself “an all- 
round one,” which perhaps is as true as 
it sounds ! 

First of all, he loves to walk. The 
mere fact that you are a biped and can 
walk wins Raggety’ s interest. He even 
knows the word “walk” in a general 
conversation and the magic of it waves 
his tail. Oh, me! oh, my! what walks 
we have had together! 

Then The Riding Lady once took him 
on horseback and from time to time since 

[ 51 ] 


RAGGETY 


he has ridden his horse. This is the 
way he rides with The Riding Lady: he 
sits on the saddle-bow (is that the right 
name ? I hope it is for it sounds so nice 
and mediaeval ! ) and puts a paw on each 
of her arms, and when the horse trots he 
gently bounces up and down and looks to 
right and left with a most knowing air. 

One of his chiefest delights out-of- 
doors is swimming. Never can I forget 
the first time he showed me that he could 
swim. We were living in Portland, 
Maine, and below State Street Hill lie 
beautiful Deerings Oaks, earlier cele- 
brated by the poet Longfellow. I took 
Raggety to walk in Deerings Oaks and 
he discovered the pond! Ducks swam 
in the pond and lived in a wonderful little 
house on a tiny island in the middle of 
the pond. He went down to the muddy 
bank, tasted the water, found it good, in 
went fore-legs, body, hind-legs, tail; just 
that yellow head and ears above the sur- 

[ 52 ] 


R AGGETY 


face, and how fast those four legs moved 
underneath ! But that is not the worst of 
it! He saw the ducks and made towards 
them, off they started quacking furiously, 
fast the yellow head followed, barking. 
Round and round and round the pond 
they went, and my whistles and calls 
were utterly unavailing. Visions of duck- 
keepers, police, fines flitted through my 
head! He landed on the ducks’ island, 
inspected their house, roused to activity 
any sitting mother-ducks and having 
stirred the whole duckdom to hysterical 
agitation, came swimming over to me, 
emerging more like a drowned rat rather 
than a fluffy yellow dog! He rolled on 
the warm dry grass, then shook himself as 
who would say, “There, those old ducks 
need n’t think they own that pond!” 

One instinct born in every terrier’s 
blood is a love of the chase. Naturally 
small game is appropriate, so mice, rats, 
moles, squirrels, or a stray rabbit fill 

[ 53 ] 


RAGGETY 


Raggety’s hunting soul with joy. To-day 
he is too fat, too much petted, too old to 
have the ardor of his earlier years, but 
recently I saw him dig a mole, seize it, 
crack its neck with a celerity and dexterity 
which made me more than glad I was 
not a mole burrowing under Raggety’s 
path. Squirrels are an endless source of 
interest. You never catch one, I do not 
know whether secretly you ever hope to 
catch one, but like the pursuit of virtue 
it shows off your style to interested on- 
lookers, and stirs your system to a healthy 
vigor. And you can always trot back and 
say, “My! But he’s a swift one! I did 
my best and you see how well I look in 
action.” Not alone the attainment, but 
the pursuit of virtue ennobles 1 


[ 54 ] 


Raggety's Love Affairs 


Raggety’s bachelorhood has always been 
an anxiety to me. Limited environment 
and force of circumstance have prevented 
my suing for the paw of some gentle little 
terrier Miss, and setting Raggety and his 
mate up in domesticity. Many times 
through the years simple and frank 
women have said to me, How adorable 
Raggety’ s puppies would be!” 

Yes, indeed, if they could all be Rag- 
geries. But genius does not always repro- 
duce itself, and I ’ve been fearful that the 
puppies might have two stupid prick-ears, 
or worse still, two dull lop-ears. But the 
hearts of dogs and men are not bound ex- 
clusively to domestic felicity. Therefore 
Raggety has had his loves, and, like the 
Greatest of Frenchmen, his love affairs 
show catholicity and wide range of imag- 
ination. 


[551 


RAGGETY 


When this imagination is upon him 
he is ardent and progressive, fights with 
lordly rivals, and returns bloody but 
triumphant. Once he eluded a whole 
band of rivals, crept through a broken 
pane of glass far too small for the rest, 
and dropped eight feet below to the floor 
of the cellar where the adorable Belle had 
been secreted by cruel guardians. You 
may imagine the guardians’ surprise on 
the following morning when they came 
to feed the imprisoned Belle ! Raggety 
greeted them with a cordiality and friend- 
liness which exhibited his new and inti- 
mate relation to the family and — Belle. 

Jeems, on the other hand, leads a 
guarded life and knows that virtue also 
has its rewards. I can only hope that 
Raggety has never communicated to 
Jeems’ s innocent mind the joys of 
nature and the love of the sex. True 
follower of nature’s supreme law, how 
Raggety’ s independence and disregard of 

[ 56 ] 


RAGGETY 


conventionalities would have delighted 
the liberty-loving heart of the ardent 
Jean-Jacques! 


[57J 


Raggety's Friendships 


Along with an ardent temperament, a 
love of liberty, and a wide sympathy goes 
a democratic tendency. Quite true to the 
type, Raggety of unknown pedigree 
shows his aristocratic stock. No recent 
upstart can choose his friends as he 
elects. Only the true aristocrat can be 
absolutely democratic. If you have a 
social position to make or maintain, you 
must be careful that your associates are 
useful and important in the structure of 
society; if you are absolutely sure of your 
own position, your heart may reach up 
and down and round about and say, 
“ Thou art mine, for I am yours.’’ And 
it is thus that Raggety elects his friends. 

The Donahues, The Great Man, His 
Lovely Lady, Belle, Black Henry, the 
four Brooklyn Aunties of those delicious 

[ 58 ] 


RAGGETY 


chocolate crackers, Jeems, Brother-in- 
Law, all have place in his heart without 
reference to their place in the social 
edifice. Happy Raggety, to be free to 
choose and to refuse! For he will not 
accept those whom he does not desire. 
No amount of caressing or blandishment 
can fix his affections. I have discovered, 
however, that food and an interest in out- 
door exercise attract him, but there must 
be some personal quality beyond to make 
this attraction permanent. I have seen 
both fail; why, I can not explain. 

If you should ask Raggety about Black 
Henry, I know he would reply, "‘He is 
my invaluable friend.’' Think of being 
invaluable to some one! Isn’t it what we 
mortals are all striving to attain? To be 
valued when present, to be missed when 
absent is the face-value of the note of 
friendship. This is the bond between 
Henry and Raggety. 

The first rattle of the coal which Henry 

[ 59 ] 


RAGGETY 


brings to renew the fire in the early morn- 
ing awakes Raggety to the joy of the day. 
Henry's arrival means a breath of fresh 
air and breakfast to follow. Oh ! and if 
one only investigates the glorious mysteri- 
ous pockets of Henry's white linen coat! 
Such tid-bits, shares of Henry's own 
breakfasts and luncheons and dinners! 
Then Henry walks to the post-office 
when every other stupid person stays at 
home, so that on rainy days you can get 
in a walk with him when all others fail. 

Often have I seen Raggety kiss the hem 
of Henry's trousers in enthusiastic appre- 
ciation of some pleasant suggestion about 
walk or food. Coming in of an evening 
one finds Henry seated on the hall bench 
with Raggety beside him, — Henry the 
silent, the smiling, the serviceable friend. 
Raggety lifts a forepaw and puts it lovingly 
on Henry's knee, saying, ‘‘What is race, 
what is rank between hearts that love? 
This is my invaluable friend Henry." 


[ 60 ] 


Raggety and The Dear Man Who Passed 

Of one of his friendships I must make 
special mention, because the mortal part 
of it is no more. The Dear Man lived 
among Books, and about his Book House 
stood tall oaks inhabited by bands of quite 
tame squirrels. They were tame because 
they were loved by The Man and fed 
from his hands. I have seen Raggety 
sit in twitching self-control watching the 
squirrels feed, divided painfully between 
his desire to pursue those virtuous squir- 
rels and his love of The Dear Man whose 
heart he could not grieve by the vain 
pursuit. When The Book Man wrote 
his noble tribute to The Dear Man, 
Raggety appropriately ran into the 
pages. 

The Dear Man went away one summer 
and never returned, and the squirrels have 

[ 61 ] 


RAGGETY 


grown wild and fearful, for the hands 
that fed them feed them no more. 

Almost the last message from The Dear 
Man before He Passed was to Raggety. 
I give it to you as it stands to-day, and on 
the reverse of the card is a colored picture 
of the blooming orchards of Montana. 

Master Raggety: 

Fm thinking of a far-away dog, a companion 
even as he seeks companionship, who has a mind 
of his own^ interests of his own^ an independence of 
his own^ but who ^ves his little heart away to those 
whom it elects, and who look upon him to love 
him. 

He who writes this begs that he will stand before 
the two friends who are with him and thus be the 
messenger to them of this friend’ s love. 

1 July, 1911. 


[ 62 ] 


Me and Jeems 


(Raggety speaks) 

Jeems is bigger than Me, but much, 
much younger and not half so clever; 
but that is partly due to his bringing-up, 
which of course he can not help, poor 
Pup! 

Jeems belongs to The Lovely Lady and 
as Hers I thoroughly love and respect 
him. Of course I too belong in a kind 
of way to The Lovely Lady, for I love 
Her and she loves Me. Jeems came to 
take the place of dear gentle Balribbie 
who died. I never saw pretty Balribbie ; 
perhaps if she had not died before I came 
to live here, our Mistresses might have 
let us marry and there would have been 
little Raggeries and tiny Balribbies. But 
pshaw! These are the Dream Puppies of 
an old bachelor dog! 

(Don’t be surprised that I know about 

[ 63 ] 


RAGGETY 


dear Charles Lamb, for I live in a literary 
atmosphere and there is much writing 
going on all about Me ! ) 

Jeems is anything but a dream ! — except 
of course in looks, for he is very hand- 
some and his tail is all right, — though 
Mistress would rather I did not mention 
tails. Funnily enough, mine never 
bothers me the way it does her. Well, 
Jeems is a bouncing barking breathless 
brother. But he’s being trained to be 
awful particular, more’s the pity, for he’s 
a true democrat at heart. 

This in-breeding training of his makes 
him a bit slow. When we both sit up 
and beg for those good sweet crackers at 
afternoon-tea, I always get his share too, 
for he’s slow at finding. Of course his 
Mistress always sees that he gets enough, 
but he’s never had to fend for himself 
and I have, and it makes a dog or a man 
mighty sharp, doesn’t it? Jeems has had 
milk and chicken in painted saucers ever 

[ 64 ] 


R AGGETY 


since he was born. Fve told him how 
especially good very old chicken bones 
out of a garbage pail are, but his tastes 
remain simple. I can' t get up his enthusi- 
asm! 

Jeems never goes out alone as I do. 
And he is always cleaned and combed 
so that The Lovely Lady doesn't like him 
to get muddy in water-rat holes or stuck 
up with burrs. But with The Lovely Lady 
as companion and guide, Me and Jeems 
have elegant walks ! Of course occasion- 
ally I have to break through and lie in a 
mud-puddle just to get the Nature-feel, 
but I know that Jeems and The Lovely 
Lady are both helpful to me, as they are 
refined and particular. It is not good for 
even a dog always to lead a dog's life. 

Best of all, Jeems speaks my language — 
doggerel, does one call it? Even when 
humans are dear and good and kind, one's 
native tongue is sweet in the ears. So 
when Jeems and I dash down the hall 

[ 65 ] 


RAGGETY 


together and he shouts, “Hurrah, here 
goes for a run!” I shout back as sharp 
and loud as I can, “Hi, Jeems, off we 
are!” The Lovely Lady laughs, even 
while she holds on to her ears, for she 
almost knows the doggerel language her- 
self since we. Me and Jeems, took up her 
education doggedly. 

“Hi, Jeems Pitbladdo, there’s a squir- 
rel on that oak! See who’ll get there 
first!” And off we go. 


[ 66 ] 


What The Lovely Lady Says 

It was quite by accident that years ago I 
met a warm devoted bit of life called 
Raggety. He has since become a near 
neighbor and an intimate and devoted 
friend. 

First in my memory, I see a bundle of 
wet yellow fur carried up a stairway in 
a northern city by the sea, and when 
I interestedly inquired who it was, re- 
ceived the reply, “Don’t you know 
Raggety?” 

But the really truly introduction came 
in a railroad station one fine June morn- 
ing, how long after our first meeting I do 
not know. I was unhappy. I had said 
good-bye for a whole Summer to my 
precious pet Balribbie, and left my bit 
of Blue Skye happiness behind me. It 
was no use, the tears would come when 

[ 67 ] 


RAGGETY 


I thought of that little bunch of afPection 
with its soft yellow head sitting in the 
farmhouse window, — waiting, watching 
for her truant mistress. 

Raggety’s little paw touched me and 
his cold wet black nose nuzzled into my 
hand with the wonderful sympathy of 
discovering a friend. Raggety’s lovely 
brown eyes were also filled with tears. 
He was in trouble and pining for the 
Mistress who had just left him. Every 
one was going away and he gasped at the 
loneliness of life. 

We sat side by side on the hard station 
bench and had ten minutes of affection 
and bliss. All I could do was to say softly, 
‘‘Wait a minute, wait a minute! Sud- 
denly Time goes by and Mistresses reap- 
pear, tails wave round, and long happy 
walks begin again for little doggies!’’ 

My train came and there was another 
tear at Raggety’s heart strings. The 
casual stranger of a few minutes before 

[ 68 ] 


RAGGETY 


had become endeared forever by her 
knowledge of the comforting scratching 
places of little beasties. 

Summers in Europe went and came; 
Time slipped by and one day he took little 
dog Balribbie with him, and hurly-burly 
Jeems begged to take her place. Then 
as accidentally as Raggety and I had met 
in that distant railroad station, so Time 
brought Raggety and his Mistress and 
Jeems and his Mistress to live in a pretty 
southern village and we four became a 
dog club or show! 

And here Raggety is to-day making 
friends as he needs them, or dropping 
them when he yearns for quiet; always 
ready for a walk with an agreeable com- 
panion, or a fight with A1 Kelly’s dog up 
the road; a swim in the cold creek; a 
tid-bit (if it’s the same to you ! ) ; a scurry 
through the brush after Molly Cottontail 
or a plunge into the deep wet meadow 
where the frogs sing and the violets 

[ 69 ] 


RAGGETY 


bloom. Even a great pig does not fright 
him until he sees the snout bear down 
upon his little paws, to lift him up and 
off and away ! 

This is why Raggety is loved. He was 
born a little trusting dog and he has made 
himself the companion of scholars and 
sages. 

You, dear Raggety, are one of the Dog- 
stars in my firmament of loves. Along 
with Balribbie and Teddy and Jeems, you 
will greet your slower, earth-plodding 
Mistresses in some far-off Heaven. We 
shall see you wagging your long tail of 
welcome and tinkling your little silver 
bell, ushering us into that Kingdom of 
Love. 


[ 70 ] 


Raggety Trots out of His Book 

Raggety trotted into my life and heart 
long years ago; he has trotted into the 
lives and hearts of many people since ; he 
has trotted into your life too ! It is good 
to love even a fluffy little yellow dog and 
have him love you. See, his tail is wag- 
ging! Will you say to him as I did, 
“ Raggety, Raggety, how do you do?” 


[ 71 ] 











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